`It is false, Arthur; when you enter the room, it always doubles my happiness; when you are near me, the sense of your presence delights me, though I don't look at you; and when I think about our child, I please myself with the idea that you share my thoughts and feelings, though I don't speak them.'

`How the devil can I waste my thoughts and feelings on a little worthless idiot like that?'

`It is your own son, Arthur,--or, If that consideration has no weight with you, it is mine; and you ought to respect my feelings.'

`Well, don't be cross; it was only a slip of the tongue,' pleaded he. `The little fellow is well enough, only I can't worship him as you do.'

`You shall nurse him for me, as a punishment,' said I, rising to put my baby in its father's arms.

`No, don't, Helen--don't!' cried he, in real disquietude.

`I will: you'll love him better, when you feel the little creature in your arms.'

I deposited the precious burden in his hands, and retreated to the other side of the room, laughing at the ludicrous, half-embarrassed air with which he sat, holding it at arm's length, and looking upon it as if it were some curious being of quite a different species to himself.

`Come, take it, Helen; take it,' he cried, at length. `I shall drop it, If you don't.'

Compassionating his distress--or rather the child's unsafe position, I relieved him of the charge.

`Kiss it, Arthur; do--you've never kissed it yet!' said I, kneeling and presenting it before him.

`I would rather kiss its mother,' replied he, embracIng me. `There now; won't that do as well?'

I resumed my seat in the easy chair, and gave my little one a shower of gentle kisses to make up for its other parent's refusal.

`There goes!' cried the jealous father, `That's more, in one minute, lavished on that little senseless, thankless, oyster, than you have given me these three weeks past.'

`Come here then, you insatiable monopolist, and you shall have as many as you like, incorrigible and undeserving as you are.--There now, won't that suffice? I have a good mind never to give you another till you have learned to love my baby as a father should.'

`I like the little devil--'

`Arthur!'

`Well, the little angel--well enough,' and he pinched its delicate little nose to prove his affection, `only I can't love it--what is there to love? It can't love me--or you either; it can't understand a single word you say to it, or feel one spark of gratitude for all your kindness. Wait till it can show some little affection for me, and then I'll see about loving it. At present it is nothing more than a little selfish, senseless, sensualist, and if you see anything adorable in it, it's all very well--I only wonder how you can.'

`If you were less selfish yourself, Arthur, you would not regard it in that light.'

`Possibly not, my love; but so it is: there's no help for it.'